American Detective: Starting as a Rookie Cop in an American TV Show

Chapter 1370 Opportunity
Staten Island used to be New York's garbage bin. The prosperous economy brought a large population and consumption to the Big Apple, and the resulting large amount of garbage was directly thrown across the strait.

More than 2200 years ago, this island, which is only separated from Manhattan by the Statue of Liberty, finally became so smelly that New Yorkers could not stand it, so the city government finally closed the landfill area of ​​more than acres on the island.

New Yorkers began to transform the island's garbage dump with their usual "high efficiency", digging pits, filling them and then building parks on top.

After nearly 20 years, the park is finally halfway completed, and the remaining part is expected to take another 10 to 15 years to complete.

But in any case, the environment on Staten Island has improved a lot. Seagulls have returned and started jumping around on the cruise ship dock, looking for French fries that tourists accidentally left behind.

The south side of the holiday cottage faces the sea. Although spring has not yet arrived, today is a rare warm winter day. The golden sunlight shines on the sparkling sea, giving people the illusion of being in summer through the glass.

Benton seemed to have just woken up from a nightmare. He was half sitting and half leaning against the back of the chair, with beads of sweat on his cheeks. His voice was hoarse and unpleasant. "I think there must be a misunderstanding here. Please, I'm not the kind of person you think I am. There must be something wrong."

Reese sat opposite him with an expressionless face, and an M1911 was placed on the table between them.

Hearing him say this, Reese leaned forward slightly, put his hands on the table, and held the pistol between his open hands.

"Wait, wait, I said don't." Beads of sweat flowed down Benton's forehead, along the sides of his hooked nose, into his neck, and finally absorbed by the collar of his shirt, which was already stained with sweat.

"Okay, I did do some bad things, some things that crossed the line, but I have changed for the better. Really, I can swear, I haven't done that for a long time."

"So the pills in your wallet are for yourself?"

Jack suddenly pushed open the back door of the holiday cottage and interrupted their conversation. "Those tranquilizers are used to calm your heart, right? Because you have hurt so many innocent women and have a troubled conscience?"

Facing the speechless Benton, Jack snorted coldly, "I'm sorry, maybe your crime doesn't deserve the death penalty, but there is neither a judge nor a jury here. If you want to survive, you might as well do something substantial."

Hearing this, Benton's eyes flashed with hope, "What do you want? Money? I can give you all my money. I have at least 600 million US dollars in assets.

Give me a month, and I can turn all of this into cash, as long as you can let me go."

Jack sneered and looked at Reese, "They say that Wall Street elites are the smartest group of people in this country, but I think they are just that."

Benton, however, seemed to have grasped a life-saving straw and kept begging, "Please, let me go. I can give you everything I have."

"Those videos you hid." Jack's words turned Benton into a duck with its neck clamped tightly. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, but couldn't make a sound.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t save those things, yes, you were careful and didn’t save those things on your computer, but those things must be there, right?

Otherwise, there is no need for you to seduce those women. As a bachelor with good looks and money, girls don't mind sleeping with you, right?"

Jack's smile looked like a devil in Benton's eyes. "But you are a pervert. Let me guess. Is it because that part of your body is too small, or because you have been ridiculed for your poor ability? I bet it's both. So you can only get satisfaction in that way. Am I right?"

Veins popped up on Benton's red neck. "I'm not me. I don't have me."

But his rage quickly subsided after his eyes fell back on the pistol on the table. Benton took a few deep breaths, hesitated for a moment, then decisively reported a string of numbers, then took out his wallet and took out a key.

"This is the key to my safe deposit box at a New York bank. With the password, you can find two hard drives inside. You can also take the other things in the box. As long as you give me a chance."

Reese took the key and looked at Jack. He nodded slightly, then stood up and pushed the pistol on the table towards Benton. "Okay, then I'll give you this chance."

Benton reached out his hand subconsciously, but the moment his fingers touched the gun body, he pulled it back as if he had been electrocuted. His whole body, along with the chair under his butt, moved sideways a long distance and he almost fell to the ground.

The chair legs rubbed against the floor, making a harsh creaking sound.

"No, I don't want it. You are all professionals. I am not stupid. You are lying to me!"

Benton no longer looked like a Wall Street elite. He used the sleeves of his high-end handmade suit to wipe the snot and tears on his face, then fell to his knees with a thud.

At the same time, a screeching brake sound was heard outside the holiday cottage, followed by several Spanish swear words coming from far away.

"No, I didn't lie to you. As long as you kill those gang killers who are coming for you, you will survive." Reese raised his lips with a sarcastic smile.

Benton stared blankly at the two men leaving the cabin through the back door and locking it, staring blankly at the pistol on the table.

There were loud bangs on the door and he rushed to the table as if awakened from a dream. He took out the magazine and checked it with trembling hands. He found that there were actually bullets in it. He quickly inserted the magazine back with trembling hands, pulled the slide hard to load the chamber, and pointed it tremblingly towards the door.
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"How many bullets did you leave for him?" Jack bent down and squatted behind a big tree, and whispered to Reese beside him.

"Three." Reese answered sparingly.

"It's a shame that four of the Matador gang showed up."

Jack couldn't help but shake his head slightly as he looked at the bearded leader with a fixed bracket on his neck, who was shouting and cursing while commanding his three men to break down the door.

The moment the door of the holiday cottage was knocked open, gunshots rang out.

Screams, Spanish swear words, continuous gunfire, sudden stops in gunfire, desperate wails, and a fat figure that appeared out of nowhere.

"Calling for backup. This is Detective Fusco. There was a gunfight at the drug transaction site. There are casualties. I need backup, please repeat."

(End of this chapter)